gmw songfics
by danahscott
Summary: songfics for riarkle and lucaya (will be posted separately as well) also i take requests here, too, and they don't necessarily need to center around a song!
1. Chapter 1

Dear Farkle,

I almost didn't write you this letter. I wasn't sure you'd want to hear from me. But I decided to write it anyway. Obviously.

I hope the mailman didn't mix up the addresses like he used to. I hope the words didn't smear on the way to New York.

I guess I don't really know what to say to you. It's been years since we've last spoken. Can you believe that? You were everything to me and now we're strangers. Kind of strangers. We can never really be strangers, can we? But it isn't just you, I haven't really spoken with anyone. Except Maya, of course, we still talk everyday. She even came to see me once in Los Angeles. I hope you're all okay. I thought about calling you all the time, but that wouldn't have been fair to you. If I was going to leave, I couldn't keep stringing you along with me.

I've been travelling through yellow deserts on horseback, searching for my next quest, just you like you said I would do one day. Ha ha. Kidding. But I should really stop kidding.

I wanna come home, Farkle. I miss everyone. I miss you. I think I miss you more than I've ever missed anything in my whole life.

Do you remember the night I said I had to leave? Do you remember what you said to me? You said when I come back, you'd meet me on the sunny road we used to play pretend on when we were kids. The same road we kissed for the first time on. Do you remember that?

You know, I fell half in love with every other boy I met while I was traveling. None like you, though. Never like how I felt about you. Feel about you. So there hasn't been anyone else. If you were wondering. Which you're probably not. Really, I have no reason to think you haven't met a nice girl who actually stuck around and settled down with her. But I think I'm going to believe we still have a chance for now.

I really don't mean to jump on you or interrupt anything. I know you never really understood why I left. I want to explain it to you, I just don't know how. Maybe if I see you in person.

You know, I didn't end up changing my middle name, after all. I always said I would. I hated Jane, it's so plain. You kept telling me not to. You said you liked it. I like it now, too. I think it's pretty. And when everything else changed, it was nice to keep something the same.

I know the night I left was so long ago. Maybe you don't even remember what you said. Did you mean it? I hope you meant it. It's time, Farkle. I'm ready to meet you there.

I guess this is it. There's not much space left on the page. I left my number on the envelope, just in case you want to talk.

Farkle, I don't care if we stay in New York or keep traveling. We can choose which way to go together. The only thing I know is that this time I want you with me. Just come meet me, Farkle. Come meet me on the sunny road. I'll be waiting there for you.

Love,

Riley


	2. dogs

The first time he saw her she was wearing white. He didn't know yet that she _always_ wore white. White dress, white shirt, white sunglasses, white shoes, something. All she was to him then was the cute girl who worked at the same animal clinic he did. Of course, that's how things usually start out, isn't it? Had he known where the two of them would end up in six months time, he might have turned around and never came back to the animal clinic or the cute girl in the white dress. But, of course, he didn't know, he couldn't have known. This is how these things always go.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

It turned out they were both assigned to be dog walkers. Their assignment? Walk every single dog in that room three times. And there were _lots_ of dogs. Dogs upon dogs upon dogs. By the time they finished walking every single dog a first time, it was already time to start on the second time. It was good exercise, at least. They would go in pairs, get two done at once. No need in forgoing all human contact, right? They came up with this idea on their first day together. He saw her crouched close to the ground in her white dress, rubbing Quirk behind the ears. She jumped a little bit when she heard him come in, pushing herself to her feet.

"Hi, sorry, I didn't see you. You must be the other dog walker. They told me there'd be a second." She smiled and extended a hand. "I'm Riley."

He smiled, lips pressed tightly together. She was even cuter up close. Plus, she had a nice voice. Pretty, he guessed. Had he known a better word at the time, he would have said lilting, or melodic. But it's okay. He had much more time to think of those two later, lying in bed at night and replaying conversations they'd had just an hour before. He took her hand and shook it, surprised at how firm her grip was.

"I'm Farkle."

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

The whole first week they spent getting to know each other. By Saturday, he knew her favorite Disney movie (Bambi), her favorite song (Can't Help Falling in Love), her favorite color (white - he used to think it was boring, but he was starting to see the appeal), and her favorite book (Little Women). It was dumb, he knew. He was enthralled, enchanted, enlightened. He knew it was dumb. He knew, but he was wrong. _One week_ , he would argue with himself, _you've known her for one week._

It _wasn't_ dumb. It wasn't a passing fancy. He didn't know that yet. He didn't know how things were going to develop. He didn't know how every blessed day spent with this girl, this magnificent girl, was going to pull him further and further into the depths of her charm. He didn't know he'd fall in love. And if he knew how things would work out, he wouldn't want to know.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

Things changed for him the first time he went over to her house. It wasn't planned or anything. But they were just about ready to head home for the day, and Riley was telling him some animated story about her Uncle Shawn, waving her tea around and subsequently dumping it all over him.

"Oh my _god_ , Farkle, I'm so sorry, are you okay?" She asked, trying to blot out the liquid with her hands. Farkle tried to ignore how his skin felt like it was being lit on fire just by her touch. He studied her face, the way she was biting her lip and furrowing her eyebrows like she was really worried about something so trivial as a stained shirt. He laughed.

"I'm fine," he said, "it's not even hot."

"But your shirt," she said, helplessly, and _damn_ she looked cute.

"This old thing? Don't worry about it."

"Well, tell you what, my roommate is really good with this stuff. She makes a lot of home remedies. She can get this out in no time. You're giving me a ride there, anyway, it won't take more than ten minutes."

Farkle shrugged. More time with Riley couldn't hurt, right? They headed over to the car, and he listened as she retold her Uncle Shawn story. On the drive over, he let her plug in her phone. He didn't care what she played, as long as she sang along like she always did when he drove her home. She hated taking the bus, and it was on Farkle's way. Well, it wasn't, but he had wanted to help.

He pulled into her long, winding driveway. She lived in the most charming, little house. He'd asked her how on _earth_ she could afford a house when Farkle could barely scrape enough money together for his apartment's rent. But apparently it was already paid off. Her grandmother had bought it as a little cottage to vacation at. They'd grown up in Philly, Riley in New York, but she'd decided she wanted to go somewhere warm, so she grabbed her best friend and moved to this house in California. It was exactly the kind of house a girl like Riley should live in. Warm and cozy. Something a dwarf or a gnome or a fairy might live in.

Farkle ran to the other side to open the car door for her. She smiled, pushing herself out. And then, instead of heading back in the car and leaving, he followed her inside. She stopped, grabbing two dead oranges from the orange tree she had growing in her yard. Farkle noticed her white dress had some grass stains on it. He wondered where she'd gotten them from. He thought that it must have been Buster, knocking her over.

"Hey, Maya?" Riley said, unlocking the door. Farkle peered around. Over in the corner was a girl with long, long blonde hair in a backbend on a yoga mat. There was rock music playing, AC/DC maybe? Farkle had always been more of a jazz fan. "Maya!" The girl - Maya, presumably - stood up from her backbend, seamlessly, turning off the music.

"Yeah?" She eyed Farkle up and down. "Is this the Farkle I've been hearing about?" Riley nodded, almost shyly. She'd told Maya about him? "What did you do to his shirt?"

"It's just tea. Can you get it out?"

"Come here, I can do it." Farkle followed Maya to their kitchen. "Hey, Riley," she called, sticking a bobby pin in her mouth and piling her hair on top of her head. "Do you know if Lucas is coming to dinner tomorrow night?" Riley poked her head in and Farkle smiled.

"As long as he can find a babysitter for his brother, why?"

"Lucas?" Farkle asked, raising an eyebrow.

"My boyfriend," Riley said, casually, almost off-handedly and Farkle wanted to curse the way his stomach sank at that word. "I've mentioned him before, haven't I?"

"Well, I'm making Cincinnati chili and it'll take all day to make if I have to make some for him, too." Maya leafed through the cabinets. _Boyfriend_. Come to think of it, she had mentioned him. Telling a story, talking about a movie she saw with him. He just hadn't realized, hadn't thought. On the walks with the dogs, it had felt like they were the only two in the entire world, and each passing name brought up by her was just a character in a book he would never need to read. "Take off your shirt."

"What? Oh." He pulled his white t-shirt over his head and handed it to her, all of sudden weirded out that he was shirtless in Riley's kitchen, but Maya didn't seem to care. "What are you putting on it?"

"Vinegar and water, nothing major." Farkle watched her spray his shirt and blot it with a hand towel. "Okay, should be ready in ten minutes." She turned to face him, arms crossed, and he could feel her sizing him up. "So…"

"Hm."

"The tea?"

"She was telling a story." Maya laughed, fondly.

"If you stick around long enough, you'll learn when to duck and cover."

"Yeah?" Farkle said. "How long have you been around?"

"Seventeen years." She blinked. Farkle's eyebrows shot up.

"Are you kidding? I haven't spoken to my childhood best friend since, well, childhood."

"Well, Riley and I aren't like most. God, we'd been through it all, just about. If it wasn't for her and her…. scrappiness, we wouldn't be friends today. I'd probably be lying in some trash heap without her."

"She's pretty something, huh?" Maya eyed him up and down and Farkle started to squirm. He'd have to be a lot more subtle from now on. Five minutes later, Farkle was on his way out the door, graciously turning down Riley's invitation to dinner. He'd just have to hide it until he could shake it. He could be her friend, just her friend. He hadn't realized by then. Just how deep he was in the whole thing. It wasn't the sort of thing that could be brushed off. And about six months later, this was going to break him. He just didn't know it yet.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

How did he get lucky enough for her to come into his life? Farkle often wondered that while she was rubbing Samson under the chin or leaning out the window of his car, letting the sunlight stream through her hair. Every day with her was like this big gift. She was handing him miracles in the sound of her laugh and the light in her eyes everyday. And she didn't even know she was doing it. It seemed to him that everyone must feel that way when they were around her. She just exuded light. She was giving to him every day and she wasn't losing anything. She didn't even know she was doing it.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

"Hey, Farkle," Riley said one day, late September to him, changing the conversation. "I was wondering if you wanted to meet Lucas?" Farkle felt the color start to drain from his face. "He said he wanted to meet you."

"Why?" He asked. There was a long pause. Farkle listened to the birds singing. They were starting to fly south.

"He just said we should have you over for dinner some time. Since we're such good friends." Riley kicked a pebble a few feet away. "You don't have to go. I mean-"

"No, no. I'll go. Why not, right?" Riley smiled and squeezed his arm.  
"Great! How's Friday?"

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

"Turn left," Riley instructed. Farkle fiddled with his keychain. Any second now, they'd be pulling into Lucas' driveway. Farkle hoped he was awful. Scum of the earth, deplorable and all together nasty. But then, he hoped he was wonderful, because he couldn't imagine Riley being with someone like that, someone who would make her clockwork, he opened Riley's door for her, then turned, surveying the house with his hands on his hips.

It was sweet. Small. Perched on a little hill. Little white paper balls lay all over the grass. He saw the door open and Lucas run out, waving to them and then bending down to pick up at least a dozen of those balls. Upon closer inspection, he wasn't ugly at all. Riley and Farkle trudged up the hill.

"Hey, babe," Lucas said, giving Riley a little peck on the cheek. Farkle looked away.

"What's with the, you know…" Riley said, gesturing to the paper clumps littering the lawn.

"Right, well, Jimmy wanted to have a snowball fight. Figured better this than another tantrum." Riley laughed and Farkle forced himself to meet Lucas' eyes. They were kind. Smiling. Farkle bit his lip and smiled back. "You must be the famous Farkle. Can't tell you how glad I am to finally meet you."

"Yeah, you too," Farkle lied. "Heard lots about you." Riley smiled at the both of them, seemingly oblivious to Farkle's inner turmoil. It was better that way. Complicated wasn't what Farkle was looking for at the moment.

Lucas sighed and Farkle could see his breath become a puff of smoke in the air. It was colder than he thought it was. "So, should we go in?"

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

He learned more about Lucas than he wanted to know during dinner. Jimmy was his little brother who was seven, and he was watching him because his parents were on a mission trip for a few months. They were due back in three weeks time. "Hey, sure beats paying rent every day, you know?" Lucas had said, twirling the spaghetti around on his fork. This guy was like a walking Ken doll. Perfect in every way possible. No fatal flaw. By the time things wrapped up it was half past nine.

"I'll walk you out," Riley said to him.

"I would too, but I should get started on these dishes if I'm gonna get all the paper on the lawn. Nice meeting you, Farkle. I mean it. We should do this again soon." Farkle nodded, saying a goodbye and then turning his back, swiftly.

Outside, the crickets were chirping so loudly the whole street was vibrating with the sound. Riley rocked from the balls of her feet to the heels, back and forth. Bright white shoes, Farkle noted. She could never help herself. Riley looked at him, nervously. "So? What did - what did you think?" Farkle paused, looking down at her, and he couldn't help but smile.

"I really like him, Riley." The worst part was, he wasn't even lying.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

Over the next two months, Farkle had four more dinners with Lucas and Riley, and he even hung out with Lucas alone. He had a good time, though he hated to admit it. Lucas was his friend, and not just by extension of Riley. A friend in its own right. And that made everything so much harder. Maya knew, he suspected. Actually, he was pretty sure she knew from the first day he met her, but she never said a thing to him about it. Still, it was comfortable to sit with her and know that she knew everything and still liked him.

One day, he came over, uninvited, which he'd started doing since he'd grown more comfortable with both Riley and Maya. Lucas and Riley were curled up on the couch, watching some rom com. Over in the corner, like always, Maya was in downward dog. Or upward dog? Or three-legged dog, maybe. One of those. She lifted her head at the sound of the front door being swung shut and smiled, plopping down on the yoga mat and patting the spot next to her.

"Come sit," she commanded. Farkle shrugged, obliging like he always did. "How ya doing, Farkle?" Maya asked him, leaning back on her hands.

"Good, I think."

"You think?"

"Well, y'know." He paused, listening to the distant voice of Adam Sandler romancing Jennifer Aniston. "Why are you always doing yoga? I don't think I've ever seen you in actual clothes."  
Maya laughed. "I dunno, haven't you ever had a hobby before?"

"I guess. Maybe you're just on a whole different level than I am."

Maya hummed, noncommittally. "Maybe." She took a deep breath and Farkle turned his head and looked at her. "I used to be angry. All the time. Angry at my dad for leaving, my mom for being out of the picture half the time, angry at myself, too. And it started to feel like everything was like… I don't know, like an action movie, in a weird way. Everything was so loud, and I kept trying to make life go so fast. Everything was in extremes, no matter what it was. Then, Riley dragged me to some yoga class she thought I would like. And now, it's like whenever I do it, I don't have to think. I can just let all my thoughts run quiet, even just for a little. I think it's helped me slow down." She bit her lip, glancing over at him.

Farkle knew what she was doing. She was letting him in. He smiled at her, grabbing her hand and squeezing it. "I'm really glad I know you, Maya." He meant it, too. His job at the animal clinic had brought all these amazing people into his life. Riley, Maya, and even Lucas. Meeting Riley was quite possibly the best thing that could have ever happened to him. At least that's what he thought at the time.

Maya squeezed his hand back. "I guess you're not so bad, either."

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

It all fell apart on Friday night, near the end of November. It wasn't supposed to end like that. It was never supposed to get that bad. He'd even had a whole plan laid out. It started when he was driving her home from the clinic, like he always did.

"Hey, do you, uh… do you wanna drive around a bit? I've got something I'd like to show you." Riley looked over, seemingly surprised.

"Uh, sure. Lucas and Maya are having movie night tonight so I've got time," Riley said. Farkle gulped at the sound of Lucas' name. Just by looking at him, Farkle knew he felt the same way about Riley. He was as crazy for her as Farkle was. And he was his friend. He hadn't wanted to hurt him. He hadn't wanted to hurt anyone. But Farkle just nodded, decidedly not thinking about Lucas. He noticed her white shirt.

"I love how you always wear white." Riley's eyebrows shot up.

"Yeah?"

"It's nice. Suits you. Think I like that color better now."

After about five minutes, he pulled up next to the bridge, his favorite bridge. He went and opened Riley's door for her, then leaned on the railing and waited for her to join him. "This is my favorite place to go, you know." He looked at her. "Just to think about…" He looked away. "Things." He felt the rain start to pelt his back. If he wasn't so wrapped up in his thoughts, he probably would've done the smart thing and gotten them both back into the car. But she just looked so beautiful, little droplets of rain starting to form in her hair. She was making no move to leave, either. He wanted to tell her everything. He wanted to pour his heart out to her.

"I love how you always wear white," he wanted to say again. "You're so beautiful that it - it hurts to look at you. When I see you smile at me, it feels like I'm being born again. When I drive you home everyday, it's not even on my way, I just love being with you. I love how you're unashamedly enthusiastic, and how you'll still watch Bambi over and over again no matter how much Maya makes fun of you about it. And when I was little, and they told me the Earth was moving, I never really believed it until I met you because every time you laugh I can feel it start to spin. Riley, I love you."

He wanted to say that to her. But he never got the chance. "Riley-" he'd started.

"Farkle," she said, looking down. "Please don't." It felt like his world was ripping apart, like he'd been shot in the stomach, like he'd lost everything that mattered. Because of course she knew. How could she not have known?

"Okay," he mumbled.

"I'm sorry," she said, and he could see that she was crying, even while it was raining, and he didn't understand why it was raining and not snowing, and he didn't understand why that was what he was thinking about.

"Don't be sorry." He stood there for a moment, looking at her.

"I'm gonna go. Maya can pick me up - I - I gotta go." He wanted to stop her, he wanted to tell her that she could catch pneumonia in this rain, but he didn't. He just watched her go, because she _had_ to go. He couldn't hold her to him any longer. He stayed standing there, alone on his favorite bridge long after she had disappeared from his sight. It was only when he felt his legs start to go numb that he got back in his car and drove away, not even looking at her house as he passed it.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

He went in early to the clinic the next day and quit. He wanted to do it before she could. It was his fault, it should be his problem. He'd find a new job easy, it wouldn't be hard. He said goodbye to the dogs as quickly as he could, and then turned away and never came back.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

He called Maya a couple days after it happened. He'd been ignoring all of Lucas' and Riley's calls, deleting their voicemails. But he hadn't heard anything from Maya.

"...Hello?" She'd said after the fourth ring.

"Hey."

"Um, do you… do you need something?"

"I just need to know. I need to know if you told her." He could hear Maya sigh over the phone.

"She knew." He didn't say anything. He suspected as much, but hearing it was different. "Farkle, she has a boyfriend."

"I know."

"She loves Lucas."

"I _know_." He had to bite his lip to keep from crying. God, he was so stupid. He should never had said anything.

"I'm really sorry." Maya paused. "Look, I gotta go. I hope everything works out for you, okay?" He heard the click signalling the end of their phone call. It was pretty clear, she was saying goodbye. He'd lost Riley, and he'd lost everyone.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

A month later, and he was working some desk job at some company he didn't care about. He missed them. He missed all of them, but he'd screwed everything up. At least, he thought he did. And then, on the most ordinary Wednesday afternoon, Riley called him. He hadn't even checked caller ID, hadn't felt the need to. Maybe if he knew it was her, he never would have picked up.

"Hello?" He said, already bored with what he expected to be another business call.

"Farkle?" Oh god. He'd forgotten how much he'd missed her voice. "Are you there?"

"Yeah," he squeaked out. Farkle cleared his throat. "I'm here."

"Hey, it's um… it's Riley. I was just wondering, uh…" He could picture her tucking a strand of hair behind her ear like she did when she was nervous. "You said to me before that you had no one to spend Christmas with. I wanted to know if you would like to spend Christmas with us."

And then, though he had no idea why, Farkle replied, "yes."

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

Seeing her house again felt like coming home. He cradled the macaroni casserole he'd brought carefully in his arms, and after a deep breath, knocked on her door. After a moment, it swung open.

"Hey! Farkle!" Maya gave him a quick hug, careful not to bump the casserole. "Come on in, dinner will be ready in a bit if I can manage to scrape it together in time. You can just set the casserole on the table." Farkle felt his throat constrict at how nice it was to be greeted by a friendly face. He hadn't realized how lonely he'd been the past couple of weeks.

And then he saw her. Sitting next to Lucas, smiling shyly up at him. "Hi, Farkle… How've you been?"

He shrugged. "Y'know." God, he missed her so much, he could scream. But he just sat down across from her at the table and took a sip from the mug he'd gotten Maya for her birthday.

"Hey, man," Lucas said. "It's good to see you." And Farkle could tell he _meant_ it, which made him feel so much more guilty. And judging by the look of pity in Lucas' eyes, he knew, which was to be expected. Riley pushed herself up out of her chair.

"I'm gonna go get some drinks." Less than a minute later, she came back with bottles of his favorite brand of root beer. She still remembered. Farkle noticed her long purple dress.

"You're not wearing white."

She shrugged. "Guess I needed a change." She sat back down, and Farkle wanted to punch himself for making things awkward. Well, it was going to be awkward no matter what he did, he supposed. "You quit the clinic," she said, looking straight at him.

"Oh, uh, new opportunity sprung up."

"Oh… Lonely there without you." Farkle looked away. Why did he come? This was hard. This was too hard. He saw Lucas squeeze her shoulder and then he heard her laugh, the one that he'd missed, the one that he didn't get to hear. He couldn't take it. He couldn't take being there with them and pretending everything was normal. Nothing was normal. He pushed himself out of his chair and listen to the chair's legs screech against the tile. Maya came out holding a pot of what looked like spaghetti.

"Farkle?"

"I'm sorry, I think I'm gonna go. Keep the dish, I don't need it. Merry Christmas, everybody, thanks for the invitation." He didn't even stop to look at their faces, just turned and speed-walked out the door.

"Farkle!" He heard Riley call behind him. He turned around, shaking the falling snow out of his eyes, to see her standing in the doorway, hugging herself to fend off the cold. "You don't have to go."

He gave her a smile, and it felt like the hardest thing he'd ever had to do. "Merry Christmas, Riley." Then, he turned away, letting the tears sting his eyes. He heard her call his name a few more times but he didn't turn around. He didn't even look at her.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

He sat in his car for a really long time. He watched his phone buzz with a call from Maya, but he ignored it, and just let the voicemail play. "Farkle, come back. It's Christmas. You don't deserve to be alone. I promise, none of us are going to ask any questions, we just want you with us." He bit his lip. He could try, for Maya. He could make it through one dinner.

So, he decided to go back in. But he never did, because he looked through the window. They were happy. Riley and Lucas gave each other a quick kiss and then Lucas laughed at something Maya said. They were like this little family and he was never a part of that. They could get on just fine without him. None of them needed him. And Farkle smiled, a real, genuine smile, because Riley was where she belonged, and so was Maya, and so was Lucas. They were happy, really happy.

So Farkle turned away and never came back to the boy with the little brother, the girl who did yoga, the dogs, and the girl in the white dress.


	3. getting it right

Maya sighed, watching her breath fog up and then dissipate in front of her. Exactly two weeks prior, Lucas and Riley broke up. And ever since, things between Maya and Lucas had been… weird to say the least. Maya knew she wasn't wrong to be hopeful. She _knew_ that. When she'd left the New Year's party Riley had thrown for the second year in a row, Riley was sitting in the bay window angsting over Farkle with Zay while Smackle explained why the concept of New Year's resolutions was juvenile and was in strong need of being retired. No one had noticed her go.

Before, when Riley and Lucas were still together, everything was different. Maya and Lucas didn't speak at all. There were some things left unresolved that she figured she'd have to mark as unfinished business. But now there could be a _chance_. She couldn't risk her heart again, could she? She couldn't hope for this all over again and have it turn out like it did the last time. If he liked her, he would've picked her. It's that simple, isn't it? Maya knew it wasn't. She knew there had been more at stake.

But maybe… maybe their story really was finished. Maybe he would only ever be an almost. Maya was going to have to learn to be okay with that. She remembered how things were last year. It had been painful, no doubt, and Maya had been worried about _everything_ , but at least she was hopeful. At least she thought, for at least a moment, that things would work out for them, after all. But that never happened. And it was time for Maya to face the truth, standing in the same spot she stood in when she decided to open up to him: that it probably never would.

"Hey," she heard behind her. It was only 10:30, she was supposed to be the only person on the roof, but here Lucas was, coming up to the ledge next to her, mimicking her position and leaning on his elbows.

"Hey." Maya couldn't decide if she was nervous or happy. Probably some combination of the two, but either way her stomach was in knots. She bit her lip, looking up at him. Had he gotten taller? How hadn't she noticed?

He wasn't looking at her though. Only up at the stars, one of those rare nights where a few peered through out of the light pollution of the city. It made Maya remember how the sky looked in Texas. She shook away the memory.

"Is it just me or have things been different with us lately?"

"Yeah."

"Since this time last year, huh?"

"I guess you're right." Then they were quiet for a while. Things were so hard to say sometimes. Maya yearned for the days when she could talk to him without questioning her every move.

"But something else happened too, right?" He said, finally. "When you became you again. I still don't know what really happened there. I just know things were different the next time I saw you." Maya could tell he was taking a calculated risk with that non-question. She decided to answer him. New year and all that.

"I became Riley. I don't know, I started hoping for things, I got the A in Spanish, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember. You were really happy that week. You know, neither of those things are bad, Maya."

"I know. But they're not me. I'm not like that."

"Do you really think that?" He asked her, and Maya blinked. This was the most they had spoken in six months and already he could see right through her. She remembered why she'd kept her distance.

"Not really," she admitted. "I _did_. But now… I don't know."

"I was going to pick you, you know." Maya gulped, suppressing a gasp. She wasn't expecting _that_. He wasn't her boyfriend. He shouldn't be able to talk to her like that, and yet, it didn't feel out of place. "That night in the bay window when you were all covered in paint," he smiled, fondly, at the memory. Maya found herself smiling too, just a bit. "But then you backed away from me. And I got worried. Worried that if I picked the wrong girl, then I would lose both of you. And I guess I did."

"What? How did you lose us?"

"C'mon, Maya. We didn't speak for six months. Riley and I were barely in a relationship. I didn't _talk_ to you guys anymore. Which sucked… a lot."

"I miss you," Maya blurted out, and then she wanted to shove the words back into her mouth because she was so used to having to _hide_ from him. But even then, they weren't anything anymore. She shouldn't say that to him.

But Lucas just gave her a sad, longing kind of smile that made Maya's throat constrict. "I miss you too, Maya." They stood there for a moment, just looking at each other.

"Things were kind of nice last year, weren't they?" She whispered, and she worried the words got swallowed by the wind, but he heard her, reaching over and squeezing her hand. The first time they'd touched in six months. Oh, _god_.

"Maybe," he started, "I dunno, if you want… maybe you can stand there like you did last time and I can stand here like I did last time and in about an hour and a half we can finally get it right."

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

And then, as the clock struck midnight, the moment was filled with soft lips meeting, cold hands grasping on to each other and the promise that things could begin again.


	4. a note to the fandom

okay i am so sorry to be that person who's being all annoying and stuff but i want to let you know: i am not signing off. i will still write fic and make edits and if anyone wants to message me and fangirl about this great show then i will be right along with you. there's also a petition for netflix that may not do anything (but it's worth a try and it worked for degrassi) and i suggest you all sign it! but know this. i am still here. i am still with all of you. and even if every other voice in the fandom dies out, i will still be here screaming and yelling like we did when this show was on the air. i love you all and i look forward to writing more fanfiction for you.


	5. in which lucas chooses maya instead

She sat there, looking at him. All she wanted to do was look at him forever, draw him, hold him, kiss him. But she had to say goodbye. It was the only thing left to do to save everything. So she steeled her heart to push him away. "We all know you chose somebody," she said. "We all know what's the right choice." Because it _was_ the right choice. They'd be happy together, and wasn't that what Maya had always wanted? Lucas and Riley happy, and now they'd have that. "And we know it's the only choice you could possibly make."

"Yeah, you're right. I don't know how I didn't see it before, really," he said, and Maya swallowed. He sure as hell wasn't making it any easier to say goodbye. "I just talked to Riley, Maya."

"Oh." So he'd beaten her to the punch. She forced a smile. "Finally figured it out, huh, huckleberry? You two… you're gonna be good together."

"Maya."

"I'm really happy for you guys."

" _Maya_." She forced herself to stop talking and look at him. "We talked and we came to a mutual decision that this hasn't been what either of us has wanted for a really long time." She felt her heart leap up into her throat.

"What do you mean?"  
"I mean that we decided that we work better as friends, not trying to force a romance that neither of us are feeling anymore."

"I thought - I was gonna tell you to _go_ to her. I was - I don't know, I-" Maya desperately tried to form a coherent sentence. She squashed down any bit of hope that was itching to come to the surface. She'd already prepared for his rejection. What use would it do to go back on it?

Lucas looked down, wringing his hands. "I get it if this isn't what you want anymore, Maya. I get it if you still like… Josh, or if you just don't want this anymore. But, for what it's worth," he looked up, "I choose you, Maya. You're the one I want."

Maya sucked in her cheeks, reaching out to touch him. "I thought… I want this, too. I want it. I do. I want this," she said in one breath. And then, before she even knew it was happening, she was kissing him. She didn't know who initiated it, she didn't know how long it had been going.

She felt herself tense up and then dissolve into him, until she couldn't even tell where his touch ended and hers began. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer like he was the only thing allowing her to breathe. His lips were chapped, and he tasted like Christmas, until finally she pulled away.

"I've wanted to do that for…. forever," she breathed.

"Me too," he said, grinning. She felt exhilarated, invigorated, renewed, like she had been sleeping under snow for centuries and spring had finally come. Lucas tore his eyes away from her, focused on a spot above her head. She followed his gaze to where Josh was standing, arms crossed.

"Maya? I thought we talked about this," he said. He didn't seem mad, just confused, and Maya forced herself to stop smiling, though it was hard with the taste of Lucas still on her lips.

"I was wrong. I mean, I lied. I thought… it doesn't matter now, does it?" She turned around and flashed Lucas a smile. "I was wrong."

When she turned back around, Josh was walking away, jaw clenched. There would be time to deal with that later, though. There would be more than enough time. Right now, all she wanted to do was sit here with Lucas. She could look at him forever.


	6. day of angst

Lucas slumped in his chair, not saying a word, not saying a goddamned thing. Thirty minutes ago, he paced, twenty minutes ago, he sat, paced again, sat again. He couldn't decide which was better, the pacing or the sitting, so he occupied his mind on trying to think about that and not this. Not this. _Not this_.

He hesitated when Riley came out with the news. Did he even care to hear it anymore? He did he did he did, but he didn't want to admit that to himself.

"Lucas, are you even listening?" She said, almost angrily, and Lucas supposed he deserved it. He nodded, reluctantly looking up at her.

"The doctors say she's still knocked out, but we can see her." Lucas sighed, half out of relief, half out of frustration. "Are you going to?"

"What's the point?" He said shrugging on his jacket. It was too air-conditioned in the hospital waiting room.

"The point is that it's Maya. It's your _girlfriend_. Can't you just… save being mad until she's better?" Lucas laughed, humorlessly.

"You said that last time. And the time before." He could almost hear Riley roll her eyes. She turned away from him.

"Well, I'm going in," she told him, pointedly. He didn't watch her go.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

"Lucas," he heard. He blinked his eyes open, blearily, jolting out of sleep. "Hey, you up?" Zay asked him, not making eye contact.

Lucas nodded, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

"Look, man, be mad at me all you want. But, really, would you rather I let her do it alone?" Lucas didn't say anything. "Didn't think so. Anyway, she's awake if you want to see her. Everyone's been through already, so she's all yours."

Lucas stood up, brushing past Zay, heading to the room. He peered in through the window first, seeing her moving, finally awake, and he remembered the way his insides turned cold the last time he'd seen her in that bed. He opened the door without knocking.

"Hey," Maya said, smiling, and Lucas thought he might cry if he wasn't so _angry_. Her smile faltered when he stood unmoving in the doorway, arms crossed, stubbornly. "So that was kinda stupid, huh?" Lucas said nothing. "Well, next time I'll stick the landing," she said, in a feeble attempt to joke. Lucas shook his head, taking slow, steady steps into the room.

"So you're already planning a next time."

"Lucas…"

"Maya, what the hell were you thinking? Clearly you don't know how to ride a skateboard, or a motorcycle, or what was it last time? Or maybe a better question is what is it gonna be next time? Cliff diving?"

"Lucas, calm down."

"That was dumb, Maya," he seethed. He could tell his words were stinging her, but he didn't care, he _couldn't_ care. He was angry. "That was _dumb_."

"I know, okay?"

"Do you? Because the last two times you did this stuff you got hurt. You're reckless. You're careless. You don't even _think_ anymore."

"Lucas, you're making my head hurt," she said, squeezing her eyes shut, and Lucas wanted to punch himself. But he also wanted to stand his ground.

"Sorry," he whispered, walking over to the chairs. "Maya, this has to stop. You can't keep getting hurt over and over again. Do you know every time Riley calls me my stomach sinks a little bit? Because what if you got hurt again?"  
"Well, I'm sorry I like to have fun sometimes!" She argued back.

"Fine, then go skydiving! You want a thrill? You want an adrenaline rush? Then, I'll take you to Six Flags!"

"You can't control everything I do, Lucas, that's not how this works," she crossed her arms, too, both of them, refusing to look directly at each other. _So, this is what we've come to now_ , Lucas thought, _arguing while Maya's lying in a hospital bed._ He almost wanted to laugh.

"That's not what I'm trying to do. I just want you safe. Because one day you're gonna do something stupid like this and you're gonna die. You'll die and I can't watch the person I love die."

"But I'm _fine_ ," she said, stubbornly, and for a moment they just looked at each other. And then, like he was making the decision of his lifetime, Lucas started heading for the door.

"Says the girl in the hospital bed."

"Lucas, don't _go_." He spun around, wringing his hands and staring at his feet.

"I can't be with someone who does this. I can't be terrified every time my phone rings. Call me when you're done with this." Then, he spun on his heel and closed the door behind him, not bothering to look back at her.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

It was noon the next day and Lucas couldn't concentrate. Not on homework, not on TV, not on books, not on anything but her. He was standing his ground, but it was so hard when all he wanted to do was call her and see how she was doing, if she needing anything.

It was noon, and someone knocked on his door. He knew it was her. At least part of him did. They were always meant to collide, over and over again, and even when he left her in that room, part of him knew that all that the next thing he would do was make up with her.

So when he swung the door open and she was standing there, he was mostly relieved that it had happened sooner rather than later. Instantly, they were hugging, and for a long time, neither said anything. Maya was the first one to break the ice.

"I'm sorry," she murmured into his chest.

"I'm sorry, too."

"It's just, when things get hard, it's easier to go back to being who I was before. But I don't even know how to be her anymore, so it's just… this is what happens."

"I don't want to suffocate you. I don't want you to think I expect anything of you. I just worry, is all."

"I know. I know." He pressed a firm kiss to her forehead, holding her face in his hands.

"I love you, you know," he told her.

"I know."


	7. hey, that's no way to say goodbye

The hardest thing was waking up without her, Lucas thought. Her sleepy eyes blinked open, slowly and she smiled, drowsily, wrinkled her nose at him. She laughed and made fun of him for watching him. He would lean over and kiss her, and her lips would come to life against his. It would start as lazy, little pecks and then grow deeper, so deep that he thought they might sink into each other. And then she'd pull away and fall back onto the pillow and with sleep still in them, she smiled with her eyes again, and everything would be quiet and still and perfect for a moment.

Lucas was a romantic. He wouldn't deny that. But he wasn't stupid, and he wasn't naive. He knew that they weren't different than any other twenty-somethings in love. That scene played out decades before they were born, and it'll keep playing decades long after they both die. Lucas knew it was playing out right that moment, while he sat at the park bench they used to go to, far earlier than he was used to waking up. He imagined the other couple - maybe she wasn't blonde, maybe they were older, maybe they didn't share an apartment but a house, maybe he actually put a ring on her finger like Lucas always swore he would, maybe she didn't give up, and maybe he didn't give in.

They weren't anything new. They were just another couple who couldn't cut it in the end and had to give up.

It was uncharacteristically warm that day in Central Park. New York is usually colder this time of year, Lucas learned that when he first moved there. He remembered meeting her on the subway, and in spite of himself, Lucas found himself smiling at the memory. He didn't know where she was now. Maybe she was an ocean away, or maybe she was down the street, getting coffee at her favorite cafe and leaning over the counter asking the barista about his grandkids.

He remembered the conversations they'd had together, late at night when the sky was tinged purple and the moon was a sliver behind the clouds. He remembered talking about where they might live one day. He remembered Maya turning down an internship in Seattle at last minute because they wouldn't be able to be far away from each other.

They had to try now. They had to try to live their lives without each other, and this time, they wouldn't be able to close the distance between them. It was time to try. Two weeks in and Lucas wasn't doing so well. He sipped his coffee, black, like she liked it, but he wished he added more cream, because it was leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

He remembered the way she looked up at him that last day, just before he left. Her eyes were soft around the edges like they were those mornings. But this time it was with sadness, worse than he'd seen her wearing in years. He wondered if she was sitting somewhere else remembering too. He couldn't ever find the words to explain how her eyes looked that day, big and round and wet, but she wasn't crying.

After all they'd been through, for it to end so quietly - well, Lucas couldn't quite believe it some days. Towards the end, he'd always expected them to go out with an exclamation point, a door slam. But if they were a story, then the last sentence would end with three dots left unanswered, drawn to a silent close.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

Two weeks drew to a month drew to two months. And things were different than Lucas thought they would be. He wasn't looking for anybody like he used to. Well, one person, one person who wasn't coming back. But a pretty girl would smile at him at the grocery store, or his cousin's friend would try and start a conversation and he would always find some way to excuse himself. He reassured his mom he was looking, but he wasn't. Lucas didn't know if he would ever look again. But the rest of his life was a long time, and it wasn't looking like he'd get to spend it with her, so he had to spend it with someone. But not yet. There was still time.

He didn't feel like he was spending his time anymore, rather drifting from day to night to day, falling into the nights and wandering into morning. He remembered that last day, hearing the apartment door shut behind them. She asked him if she could walk him out, a little nervously, and Lucas couldn't remember the last time she had been nervous around him. He remembered the sound of their footsteps seamlessly falling in sync, something they'd gotten used to after walking in the park or to the store or to their cars together.

He remembered pausing at the corner, where she would turn around and he would keep moving forward and maybe keep moving in opposite directions forever. He remembered her turning to him and looking at him with that look in her eyes that he still couldn't describe and he couldn't remember what she was saying, even though at the time he swore he'd remember forever.

He didn't know where she was. The apartment had been rented out by someone else. There was another couple in the bed, smiling at each other in the half light of morning. She could be in Seattle for all he knew. But he could still feel the imprint of her lips on his forehead from that last day. He could still feel her heart pulsing next to his, and then drawing like a tether to wherever she was. He wondered if she could feel it, too.

Lucas looked out at the ocean, the waves kissing the shoreline and then destroying it, wiping away sandcastles, keeping it from ever staying the same. Someday, maybe a million years into the future, the ocean would be all dried up, and the sand would finally get to stay how it was left, except no one would be around to see it.

He closed his eyes, feeling the wind press against his eyelids. He could still see the way she looked that last time. He hadn't seen her since. That was no way for it to end. But it did end. It was over. They couldn't pick the way it ended. Lucas was going to have to learn to live with that.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

Sometimes, when he woke up, he could still see her. Her blonde hair turned golden by the sunlight, splayed onto the pillow like streaks of lightning in the kind of storms they'd sit at the window and watch. Sometimes he could still feel the warmth of her lips against his. He could see it, back in New York, another couple in their apartment. The couple who'd signed the papers. He wondered if they looked at each other like Lucas and Maya looked at each other once. He could almost see another couple, too. Deep within a forest, lying together in a small, cozy cabin and smiling at each other the same way. History repeated himself - he'd learned that much with Mr. Matthews.

And maybe it would. Sometimes Lucas thought about how it might have been if only one thing was different. He didn't think like that anymore. What was the point? What was the point of talking about love that had turned to pain, or sad eyes on a street corner or things that wouldn't change? There wasn't one. Lucas had learned that now.

It had been a year. And still nothing from her. Lucas sipped his coffee, a milky brown, with the extra cream he'd put in. Coffee in Paris was better than it had ever been in New York. He didn't know why that was. But he had needed a change and when he kept seeing blonde hair duck into a subway car and a toothy smile flash at him outside the window in the cafe they used to go to, he figured it was time to finally leave. She could still be down the street, and she could still be oceans away. Lucas didn't know. But he wasn't going to worry about it anymore.

If they were going to be together, then they were. And he'd have to trust that it would happen someday. And if they weren't, he'd have to get on with things. After all, it ended with those big, sorrowful eyes staring up at him and silence so heavy it felt like it would break him. He remembered now, what she said.

" _I didn't think it would end this way."_

He didn't think so either. And so maybe it hadn't ended. After loving so fiercely for so long, maybe there was more for them after all. Maybe it wasn't goodbye. And maybe it was. He'd just have to wait and see.

Lucas took another sip of his coffee and smiled. It really was beautiful view.


	8. maybe you could stay a bit longer

In Lucas' defense, she was jaywalking. In Lucas' defense, she came out of nowhere. In Lucas' defense… _shit_. Was she moving?

Lucas pushed his door open and hurried over to the side of the girl he just hit with his car. Oh god, he just hit someone with his _car_. Another car pulled to the side of the road and got out. Lucas could hear them start talking to 911.

He was trying to remember whether or not you're supposed to move someone who was badly injured - hopefully not dead, _please_ not dead - when she groaned and started to stir. His relief was palpable. She shifted, just enough so she was facing him. Lucas slid an arm around her back, trying to help her sit up. Her leg was bent at a very wrong-looking angle, but Lucas was more worried about the blood running along the side of her face.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asked, knowing it was a stupid question, but he couldn't think of what to say. He'd never been in a situation like this. Her head started to loll back as she started to slip out of consciousness again. Lucas didn't know a lot, but he did know that when someone hits their head, you're not supposed to let them fall asleep. "No, no, no, don't do that."

She snapped back awake, but she looked confused - and not half as scared as she should have been. "Your name," he said, "what's your name?"

"Maya."

"Maya what?"

"Hart."

"You got a middle name?" he asked her. Even in the midst of everything, she glared at him.

"Penelope." Her voice - that wasn't very strong starting out - began to weaken.

"Okay, Maya. I'm Lucas." He wracked his mind for something to ask, anything to keep her conscious and talking. "What's your favorite color?"

"Yellow," she muttered, shifting a little, then wincing.

"Don't move. Yellow? What, uh, what shade?"

"Gold. 5:30 afternoon sunlight gold."

Despite the situation, Lucas couldn't help but smile. "That's… really specific."

"Yeah, well, I'm an artist," she said, with a wobbly smile in return.

"Okay, tell me about your last painting, then," Lucas replied, and then he heard his misstep. "I mean, not your last painting ever, just the - the last one you did."

To his surprise, she gave him a smile, which quickly turned into a grimace. "It was a self portrait."

"Describe it. Don't leave anything out." He could feel her getting weaker and weaker. By now, he was completely supporting all of her body weight.

"It's just me, in black and white. And I'm surrounded by stars. I didn't know how to finish it, it was an impulse, really, but I put a long purple slash over my eyes. I don't really know if it works or not." She was quiet for a moment. "It might be though, right? My last painting?"

" _No_. You're gonna be fine." Lucas, of course, had no way of knowing that. But her really, really wanted it to be true. After all, he _was_ the one who hit her with his car. Lucas locked eyes with the guy on the phone. The guy nodded, sending Lucas a silent message: _Help is coming_.

When he looked back down to Maya, her eyes were closed. "No, no, Maya, you have to stay awake." Reluctantly, her eyes opened.

"I can't."

"Yes, you can. Where were you going when I - when you got hit?"

"The museum."

"Which museum?"

"The _art_ museum," she said, and even in her weak state, he could hear the slight annoyance in her voice.

"Why?"

"I haven't been making anything good lately. I wanted to see what real artists made. It's a thin line between intimidation and inspiration. I've learned to toe it very carefully."

"What's your favorite painting?"

"It's - Magritte."

"What's the name?"

" _The Lovers_. It's the one with… The one with the…"

"What? Maya, the one with what?"

Her head lolled back again, but this time her eyes remained closed. "Maya!" She didn't stir. He'd kept her awake as long as he could. At least she was still breathing. At least she was alive.

Less than two minutes later, the ambulance arrived. They peppered him with questions so quickly that he forgot them as soon as he'd answered them. "Hey," he said, as we watched Maya get loaded up into the ambulance. "What hospital are you guys taking her to?"

The paramedic answered and then climbed in the back. Lucas stopped, watched them drive away, sirens blaring. After a moment, the man who was on the phone drove away, too. Lucas stood there a second longer, half-wondering what had just happened, and then, even though it felt so wrong, he got into the car he just hit her with and drove home.

He showered (making special care to wipe the blood off of him), changed, ordered takeout, watched a rerun of _Friday Night Lights_ and went to bed.

The whole time, his mind kept drifting to Maya, hoping she was okay, hoping he didn't kill her, hoping she would finish her painting, imagining that she crossed the street and made her way into the museums and saw the painting by - who was it?

 _The Lovers_ by Magritte. After a quick google image search, Lucas could instantly see why it was her favorite. He didn't pretend to know a lot about art, or anything really, but it wasn't hard to fall in love with that painting.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

The next morning Lucas drove to the hospital, with flowers (he thought a balloon would be too much). He was taking one of his vacation days for work. He felt obligated, but more than that, he wanted to go. For whatever reason, he wanted to see her again. He was relieved to hear she was allowed to take visitors. Whenever it's really bad, only family is allowed in. Well, at least that's what happened in all the movies.

So he got to her door, double-checked the room number and after a deep breath, knocked. "Come in?" he heard her say. She sounded confused, but when he opened the door, her eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Hey, I don't know if you remember me, I'm -"

"I remember you. You're the guy who hit me with his car. Lucas, right?"

"... I'm really sorry about that," he said, feeling like he wanted to look away, but also feeling like he owed it to her to face up to what he did. To his surprise, she smiled.

"Don't be. When I'm trying to paint, I get kinda crazed and I sort of ignore walk signs. Actually, I'm surprised I haven't gotten hit before."

He still felt pretty bad for hitting her, but the guilt in the pit of his stomach started to lessen. Lucas walked to the chair by her bed and took a seat, setting the flowers down on the table next to the bed. "I'm not holding up any visitors, am I?"

"Consider yourself lucky. You're my only visitor."

"What? Why?" Lucas asked her, before he could stop himself. He knew that if he were in the hospital, he'd at least get one visitor. Had he waited just a moment longer, he probably would've realized there was a reason, but she just smiled. For someone in a cast and a head bandage, she smiled a lot.

"Well, my two best friends are on their honeymoon, and my mom and my step-dad are on the cruise I sent them on for their anniversary. Trust me, I spent three hours on the phone with my best friend last night convincing her to stay in Italy."

"Wow. That's dedication. Pretty sure my best friend would shoot me a "get well soon" text," he said. She laughed, and Lucas felt his smile stretch wider. "So, what's the verdict? How bad is it?"

Her smile fell a little. "It's not too bad. I got pretty lucky. My leg is definitely broken, and I've got a concussion, but other than that, I'm all fine." She was silent for a moment. "I didn't get a chance to thank you for keeping me awake yesterday. According to my doctor, that was the right thing to do."

"I mean, I did hit you with my car, I think I kinda owed you that much." He hadn't noticed it before when half her face was covered with blood, but she was pretty. _Really_ pretty. He shook his head. The last thing she needed was the guy who'd almost killed her to start hitting on her.

"To be honest, I'm kind of glad you're here. Did you know that when you have a concussion, you can't do anything? No listening to music, no watching TV, no reading, no going on your _phone_ even. I've been bored out of my mind."

"Well, I have the day off. I feel like if I hit you with my car, I can at least keep you company."

"Good. I could really use some."

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

"No way. You're not actually telling me you _The Beatles_ are better than Michael Jackson. I don't accept that."

"Come on! Like, every song of theirs is an instant classic."

"They have _some_ great songs. I'll give them Yesterday, Blackbird and, I don't know, Something. But you know who has a _lot_ of great songs? Michael Jackson. There's a difference between great and good, Huckleberry."

"Huckleberry?"

"Do you even hear yourself when you speak? With that accent, you're begging for a nickname. Be grateful I didn't give you something worse."

"Like what?"

"Bucky McBoing-Boing."

"Huckleberry it is."

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

"For years and years, I swore I wanted to be a vet."

"Really? Why?"

"I once gave birth to a baby cow."

"Ooh. I know it's the miracle of life and everything, but that just sounds kinda gross. So why'd you change your mind?"

"I realized I was going to have to put animals down."

"You wanted to be a vet for years and you never once thought about that?"

"In my defense… I've got nothing."

"Well, what do you want to do now?"

"I want to be a teacher."

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

"So, you're in a… what do artists call it?"

"A slump."

"Right. How are you going to get out of it?"

"Well, I was going to go to the art museum, but some idiot hit me with his car, so that plan's been shot to hell."

"Right, yes, sorry again."

"For the last time, Ranger Rick, don't worry about it. It's fine. I'm getting discharged tonight, so I'll figure something out tomorrow. Who knows? Maybe the bump on my head turned me into the next Picasso."

"So, what's your process, then?"

"You know that thing where you visualize something but it never quite looks like it does in your head?"

"Yeah."

"Well, it's sorta like that. I know how I want the painting to make me feel. Right now, all it's made me feel was frustrated. And hungry."

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

"That painting you told me about? Your favorite? It was amazing."

" _The Lovers_?"

"Yeah, that one!"

"I didn't even remember telling you about it."

"It's beautiful. Haunting, even."

"That's certainly what he was going for. You actually looked it up."

"I was curious."

"Wow, that's… dedication."

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

"Time to go, already?" Lucas checked his watch. Sure enough, it had been four hours. That was three hours and fifty five minutes longer than he thought he'd stay. But the time had seemed to fly. The more he got to know Maya, the more delightful she became. He kept waiting to find some fatal flaw, something big that would turn him off of her, but he came up empty. She was easy to talk to, and _interesting_. Even after getting to know her more, he was still intrigued.

"Yeah, I guess it is. Look, I'm getting out of here in a few hours, thank _god_ , and I was wondering… Well, here." She grabbed a pen from the desk next to her and scrawled out her number and an address on a piece of scrap paper. "That's my studio, if you ever wanna swing by sometime. If you want." He could see her trying to hide a blush, and he felt his own cheeks turning pink too, so he figured it was as good a time as any to leave before he embarrassed himself and ruined the whole thing.

He gave her one last smile before finally heading out the door.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Did he have to be at work?. Probably. Was he going to be late? Probably. Did he care? Probably should, didn't really. Weirdly enough, after those hours of talking, he learned that she took her coffee with only a little milk, whereas he was more of a frou frou drink kind of guy. And he wanted to see her studio.

So he pulled up to the curb, double-checking he had the right address. He did. So he knocked on the door.

His face lit up as soon as Maya was revealed, smudges of blue and yellow paint on her hands and cheeks. He'd told her yesterday blue was his favorite color. Lucas held up to Starbucks cups. "I brought coffee."

"I'm gonna be honest, Huckleberry, I didn't really think I'd hear from you again."

"Well, luckily for both of us, you were wrong. Can I come in?"

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Maya's studio was cozy, with wide open windows and paint-stained newspapers all over the floor. There were abandoned canvases and tipped-over easels, and in the center of it all was an easel, perfectly maintained, but there were large, fresh paint smears all over the floor.

"Hang on, I'm gonna go change my paint water." She crutched away, and before Lucas could think to ask if she needed help, she was in the other room. And besides, he'd made his way to the painting she was working on.

It was her self-portrait but things were a little different. It was still in black and white, still a silhouette, still surrounded by stars, but she wasn't alone anymore. This time there was a silhouette of someone else, a boy, someone who looked oddly similar to him. Over her eyes was a long streak of blue, over his, a streak of yellow. Lucas stared at it for a few moments. He'd never seen anything quite like that. Magritte had nothing on Maya Hart.


End file.
